


Mending Hearts

by KenrakenOkwaho



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Het and Slash, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Male Slash, One Shot, Parent/Child Incest, Slash, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho
Summary: One moment can change everything, even a non-existent relationship.





	Mending Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Probably not an unique idea at all, but it was worth a try. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and, please, leave your feedback in the comments, it means a lot. Hugs!

Fourteen years...

 

Fourteen years since Ziio died and here he is, watching Connor sleep peacefully beside him after a night of unspeakable activities. It's wrong, it's wrong on all levels and both of them know it, but they keep giving in to anger, frustration, ultimate desire. Perhaps the line between father and son, moral and immoral had been blurred from the very beginning, from the very first moment they laid eyes upon each other at the tribunal, only days after Achilles died, only days after Haytham found out he had a son he was expected to take custody of. He remembers that day with the same painful clarity he remembers the day when Ziio left, a child...  _his_ child growing inside her womb without him even knowing.

 

◇◇◇

 

The facade Connor put up when they met was one of seething rage, eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at Hayhtam with a contempt so unadulterated and intense that the older man wondered what could he have possibly done to provoke such a reaction. No matter, Haytham himself wasn't fond of the boy so why pretend. Despite those real emotions conveyed in his son's stare, it still was just that, a facade, one meant to hide the broken adolescent weeping for a loss he knew was inevitable, yet no less sorrowful. That night, they ended up fighting. Almost savage growls rumbled in their chests in tandem with the kicks and punches wildly aiming to hit flesh, to bruise, to hurt. By the time their drive for violence faded, the coffee table had already shattered into a mess of shards spread across the living room along with various decorative objects that were either destroyed beyond repair or littered all over the wooden floor. And they... well, they just lied there on the ground, Connor stradling his waist while heavy breaths escaped their lungs and blood trickled down their faces. Neither said a word as they slowly stood up, battered bodies aching with the effort, weary minds reeling with the tension. He recalls telling Connor where his room was before leaving the Native to his musings.

 

After that, things got as amiable as they could get, a tacit agreement settling among them on its own accord. Silent greetings, monosyllabic conversations as well as frequent arguments over trivial matters became their way of communication. He was fine with it... at least for a while. A question plagued Haytham's mind and, irrespective of what he did to try forgetting about it, the damn curiosity wouldn't leave him alone. Why did Connor despise him with such fervour? Maybe because he was the one to tear down any remnant of the old fool's insolvent company, leaving him ill and penniless. Maybe because he was the one to turn a skeptical Shay more and more against the man who called him son... Or mayhap the burden of abandonment had been too harsh on the boy and he linked the absence of a father figure to hateful sentiments and false accusations directed towards Haytham, towards a man who wasn't even aware of his existence.

 

Each piece of the puzzle fell into place one tempestuous evening, on the 2nd of November. Everything started well, routinely, normal, with the two of them having a quiet dinner after quite a long time during whitch their paths did not intersect much due to work and school. Connor appeared to be his usual passive agressive self, but Haytham had a far too keen gut feeling not to notice that something was indeed off. In the end, he pegged it as meaningless irritation, the younger was always behaving that way after all.

 

"You don't remember, do you?"

 

The question startled him. As does the emotionless tone in Connor's voice. He remained silent, confusion washing over him whilst he raked his brain in a poor attempt to find out what his son was talking about. He came up with nothing at all.

 

"This is the day she died, the day your pathetic excuse for an associate killed her... and you don't even remember."

 

Forks clattered on the forgotten plates, one from surprise, one from fury, Connor's clenched fists trembling on the table as he gritted his teeth.

 

"He killed her and you vouched for him!"

 

"For God's sake, what are you talking about, boy?"

 

In hindsight, he probably should have never asked him in that specific moment, glasses, plates and cutlery flying their way to the floor as Connor flung himself over the table and they tumbled into a heap of frantic motions. If last time Haytham had not been giving it his all, he certainly did then, the instincts of a former wrestler never dulling, not even after years of paper work and tedious meetings. That's how Connor found himself flat against the wall, wrists held tightly in a vice like grip whilst he glared daggers at his father. Vain attempts at getting free soon followed, serving only to tire the boy out faster. When they finally did, Connor simply looked to the side, refusing to meet Haytham's eyes.

 

"Are you done?"

 

There came no verbal answer, but the scowl emerging on the Native's strangely mature features was enough confirmation that he capitulated, at least for a while.

 

"Good. Now, tell me what you are on about? Who was killed?"

 

The frown deepened further, if possible.

 

"How can you ask that? My mother died because of him and you don't even remember?"

 

Blue-grey eyes widened, a shadow of grief flickering in them before vanishing completely as if it weren't there.

 

"What...? I am sorry to hear that..."

 

"Oh, you're sorry? I found my mother burning alive under contorted metal and tires. I'll never forget her face as she told me everything is going to be fine... That was before the explosion... Charles Lee is responsible for her death. You supported him in court! And you're sorry?"

 

"That's impossible. I didn't know it was her, they told m-"

 

"Would you have condemned him...?"

 

Silence.

 

"If you knew who he crashed into with that damn car, would you have spoken against him?"

 

Connor's voice sounded as fierce as it was defeated... the waver echoing in it projecting a helpless human trying to figure out his past... his life. Haytham's response was obvious, a clear and loud no, he wouldn't have... not in that moment perhaps... too rattled by his contradicting emotions. His grip on Connor's wrists loosened after some time, lowering to rest on broad shoulders. Once freed, the boy instantly tried to push him away, but the older man's grasp tightened, pulling him closer into an awkward embrace.

 

Bitter tears fell then, landing on the skin of his neck as Connor howled and cried until he couldn't anymore.

 

◇◇◇

 

Neither of them knows what changed after that, all they know is that fiery spats turned to nearly enjoyable  conversations, lack of contact turned to soft touches, avoidance turned to seeking each other out as often as possible. And then... then everything spiraled down into a frenzy of perplexing feelings that shouldn't have been there, but were. So powerful, so lucid, so real. They drowned both men under their tide as pats on the back became chaste kisses and chaste kisse became heated battles for dominance, tongues swirling around each other in a mix of flavours and saliva. Subsequently, that only led to urgent frottage up against the wall and, ultimately to passionate sex on every available surface in the house. At some point, they began to call it love-making, but when exactly their perception of one another changed so drastically, no one knew.

 

Now, one year after all that chaos, here they are, curled up in their bed, two unlikely lovers who were never meant to be together in the first place. He loved Ziio. He still does, yet the love simmering for his son exceeds even that love. A mumble interrupts his train of thought and he smiles. Watching Connor snuggle into his chest is the best place he could ever be.

 

He regrets nothing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, the fact that in a super technologised world Haytham didn't know Ziio died is due to Charles Lee somehow having altered the facts and identity with the help of higher power individuals, thus lying to him. I don't know how logical it seems, but eh, fics are fics.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
